Life On Mars
by Dark Eyed Seer
Summary: The universe decides that Harry deserves a reward for distroying Voldemort. But because he is Harry Potter, nothing ever goes the way he would have planned it.
1. Chapter 1

Voldemort was dead.

Harry was on his knees in the mud, wind and rain whipping his robes every which way.

He was alone, he was alive, and Voldemort was dead. This was the only information available in his brain. There was nothing but the sight of crumpled, empty robes and then the wind moved them farther and farther away as it had the ashes.

The whole world was ashes.

No, the world was fine. He was ashes. He was dead inside but his heart was still beating.

He did not want to be alive, he realised. He had expected to die, thought, at one point, that he had. But he was still alive.

A great shudder ran through him and he realised all at once how cold it was. He felt like he'd never be warm again.

All at once, the wind began to gather and eddy around him, there was a crack that sounded like apparition but no one came into view.

All Harry remembered after that was the sudden absence of the pain he had barely been aware of and a bright white light.

He woke up on the forest floor, he knew he was very close to civilisation because he could hear a radio DJ rambling on close by.

"It's going to be another hot one today folks! Record breaking temperatures across the board. Time to take a sick day and toddle off to the seaside, I should think."

Another voice joined the first, "COUGH! COUGH! Sick day, that sounds just like what I need. Let's all cool off with last year's hit by those lovable boys from Liverpool-"

"I heard they were having difficulties." The first voice broke in.

"I sure it's nothing. Here's Britain's Beloved Band: The Beatles with 'Let It Be."

Harry blinked up at the trees and the bits of blue sky peeking out between the branches. There was something not quite right.

He cautiously got to his feet, surprised when no wounds protested the motion. It was a rare day when Harry didn't have a wound to accidentally strain or reopen.

The ground seemed awfully close. He examined his hands.

Oh, dear.

Just once, just one bloody time couldn't the weird stuff happen to someone else?

So how old was he now?

His clothing and boots had shrunken along with him. He'd had resizing charms on his clothes since fifth year when he'd started growing so erratically. He took stock of what resources he had.

1 wand

1 wrist holster for above wand

1 invisibility cloak

1 Pain Relieving Draught

1 phial Veritaserum

1 pair black leather trousers

1 leather belt

2 daggers

1 pair black boxer briefs

2 pairs Mrs. Weasley's knitted socks

1 pair black dragonhide boots

1 set black and silver duelling robes

1 Weasley jumper in emerald green

1 black undershirt

1 money pouch containing 78 Galleons, 51 Sickles, and 33 Knuts.

Not much to work with, but he'd had a lot less. He quickly cast 'Scourgify' over himself, put the counted money into the pouch (while noticing how oddly small his hands looked) and set off to find a reflective surface.

As he was walking he hummed along to 'Let It Be' Odd that they had been talking about the Beatles like they were a current band or something. He wondered if he'd been de-aged or simply sent back in time?

He must have been de-aged because he would have woken up at the Dursleys or inside Hogwarts if he'd been sent back into his childhood, right?

His own face at ten or eleven years old greeted him from the reflection of someone's porch window. Minus the glasses he'd stopped wearing by sixth year after he'd gotten his eyesight repaired. He sighed but squinted when he noticed his scar missing.

But no, it was still there, just faded and old looking.

He shook his head at his reflection and jerked back in surprise when instead of mimicking him, the other boy winked and grinned, "Hello, handsome."

Harry closed his eyes, vowed to never smoke up with Fred and George again, and reopened them.

"Come on, I'm you. I know you aren't stupid. May act like it sometimes, mind, but we really are quite brilliant when we put our mind to something. I am real, this isn't a marijuana flashback or a side effect from one too many head injuries. And we've had far to much of both, haven't we? Well, I'm real in the sense that the words in spells are real. It's kind of a subjective thing."

"So what are you?" Harry asked, wincing at how high his own voice was. Oh, Merlin, it would be another two years before his voice changed.

"I'm a manifestation of the magical forces alive in the world, in all worlds."

"And you're talking to me?" Harry asked, he knew he was considered a big deal in the Wizarding World but the magic itself conjuring a form to talk with him was a bit out there.

He heard his own child's laughter. It was… creepy.

"Of course, you! You're ours of course. Your Dumbledore didn't tell you about that part of the prophecy, did he? Hmmm. How did it go? Ah, yes!

'_Conceived and created, child magic and fey,_

_He will be born as the seventh month dies,_

_He will have power the entire world knows not of,_

_The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord _

_Will be born as the seventh month dies_

_He will be born to them that have defied the Dark Lord Three Times_

_He will be born as the seventh month dies_

_He will have power the Dark Lord know not of_

_He will be born as the seventh month dies_

_The one with the power, the saviour, the prince_

_Will be born as the seventh month dies.'_

Unfortunately, it isn't our best prophecy. We were in a big hurry creating you and all. Don't worry, we'll do a better job on the next one. Prophecies are everything, you know."

Harry sat back on his heels to absorb this. He wasn't surprised Dumbledore had the prophecy spin doctored to suit him. That's what the man had always been after all, an expert at manipulation.

"What about my parents? If you made me-"

"Oh, we used some bits of them, don't worry, and only the nice bits. Except your temper, you grew that on your own." The reflection looked positively smug and Harry decided it wasn't a good look for him.

"So what am I doing here?"

"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet? This is your prezzie! It's for being a good little prophecy boy and defeating the Dark Lord. Who's a good boy?" The reflection made kissy noises. It sounded like Ron and Hermione.

"My present is to be plunked down in the woods and ten years old?" Harry asked, the edge of a whinge creeping into his voice. He was starting to feel like a child now.

"Your prezzie is your childhood, nitwit. And you've just turned eleven. You get to do it over, there's no Voldemort here. That spell you cast erased him from everyone and everything but your memory. It's like he never existed."

"Oh, so I get to have parents this time!" Harry grinned, "Where are they?"

His reflection's face fell, "Oh, um, well, I'm afraid we couldn't so it that way."

Harry's heart sank, "What do you mean? And why can't I start at the very beginning? Why can't I be a baby and a toddler and a little kid and have a mum and dad?"

His reflection looked alarmed at the threatening tears, "Oh, please don't- Here!" A silk hankerchief appeared out of thin air and dabbed at Harry's cheeks.

"Don't cry, please. Look, parts of us wanted to do it that way! We just… we have a few other… loose ends we're hoping you can tie up."

Harry scowled and wiped his eyes, "Oh! So my 'prezzie' is to fix other things for you? I don't even get… I don't get anything this time around, either?"

He felt something wrap around his like a warm blanket, "You get your freedom! You can be a child instead of a weapon! You aren't famous here. You're not even born yet. You can have a relatively normal life."

"So what is it? What do I have to do?" Harry asked, blowing his nose.

"Just be yourself." His reflection smiled, "You'll do the right thing. You always do. Don't worry about anything, just go to school and live your life."

"So, I'm not born yet, here? When the heck am I?"

An issue of The Daily Prophet appeared before him.

The headline announced the Quidditch victory of a major league team Harry had never heard of. The date read 31 July 1971.

He snapped his attention to the window reflection but it was mimicking him perfectly again. Blast it.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry scanned the headlines absently. There was nothing alarming in them or even exciting. A great flapping of wings overhead made him look up.

There was a very large snowy owl now perched on the fence. For a brief moment Harry actually thought it was Hedwig. Enormous golden eyes regarded him calmly and a taloned foot was helpfully stuck out.

Harry took the two letters and glanced around for a payment pouch. There was none.

The first letter bore the Hogwarts' crest and was addressed to _Mr. Harry Pierce, The Empty Field Next To the Blue House, Little Whinging, Surrey._

It made sense that his surname would require changing. Potter was a very old and well respected magical name and he couldn't very well show up out of nowhere bearing that.

And, of course, there is the little matter of you father, his mind piped up, who would be just about your age right now. That thought wasn't a comforting one. Harry really didn't know what to think about that.

He opened the letter and read over the greeting and instructions he already knew by heart. He stuck the list of books and supplies into his cloak and wondered how he was going to manage to pay for seven years of school with what he had in his money belt.

That question was answered by the next letter. It was from Gringott's and apparently a 'replacement key for the one he had lost'. It was also address to Mr. Harry Pierce.

Harry was just glad he got to keep the same initials. He looped the golden key on its chain around his neck. At least the fates had provided. A trip to London was in order and a room at the Leaky Cauldron was calling his name.

With a barely audible crackle, Harry disapperated.

XXXXX

Severus Snape had mixed feelings about the whole thing, really. On one hand, going off to Hogwarts had been something he'd dreamed of for years. He'd be far away from his cruel and occasionally violent grandfather. He'd be learning magic at the best school in England.

But on the other hand, this would involve a great many other children. Severus did not like other children because they never liked him.

Well, except for Lily Evans who lived down the road. But she liked everyone so it didn't count. He wasn't her best friend. She had a dozen best friends.

He was just a boy she was nice to because she felt sorry for him. He had old clothes, he was lanky and homely and he spoke as if he'd swallowed a dictionary.

Severus wanted a real friend. He'd read about them in books, they sounded so wonderful. But he couldn't imagine ever finding someone who would want to be friends back.

No, other children were at best an annoyance and at worst they were dangerous. They said cutting things and picked out your every weakness. They pushed you down and stole your book only to throw it in the pond.

They were horrid and he was going to a school filled with them in just two days.

Diagon Alley was packed with last minute shoppers buying school supplies, Severus had to run to keep up with his grandfather in the bustling crowd. There was a humiliating twenty minutes trying on second hand robes and Severus was convinced his grandfather had chosen the oldest and ugliest on purpose.

The used book shop was missing the Charms text completely and only had the previous edition of the Transfiguration one. And they would have to do, wouldn't they? To even suggest they might go to Flourish & Blotts was madness.

There one thing they could get second hand or the cheapest possible: his wand.

Severus was so excited when they left Ollivander's shop he was practically bouncing. He could not wait to try it out. It was the first thing he'd ever had in his life that was just for him.

Hid grandfather growled that he was going down Knockturn Alley for a few things and for him to stay out of trouble. Still holding his wand, Severus watched him disappear through the crowd and hoped he wasn't going to get drunk again.

The last time this had happened they'd had to take the Knight Bus and he'd been beaten for the coin it had cost.

Well, what was I suppose to do? Severus thought, let him try to apperate and splinch us?

There was no telling how long this would take so Severus found a seat outside Fortescue's ice cream parlour and hoped he wouldn't be pushed on for not buying anything.

Two boys came out licking very large ice cream cones and laughing. One of them pointed at Severus and said something to the boy with the glasses. They both laughed some more and Severus tensed as they actually approached.

"Does your mother know you left the house dressed like that?" The boy with the blue eyes asked.

"My mother's dead." Severus said flatly, hoping this would at least make them lose interest.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. You've got a face only a mother could love and there's no one to love you now."

"Sirius!" The boy with the glasses actually sounded like he meant he reproach.

Severus, meanwhile, ignored the sharp stabbing pain the other boy's words had caused. They were true, weren't they? There was no one that neither loved him nor would ever and nothing was going to change that. No use blubbing about it.

"Well, at least I can get by without. The both of you look like your mothers dress you every day. Do they still wipe your arses after you've been to the loo?" Severus snapped back all the time knowing this was a bad idea.

The boy with the glasses went from being horrified at this friend's worried to enraged at the subject of them in ten seconds flat, "I'd watch it if I were you. I'm going to make life miserable for you at school. Pity you won't be in my house."

"Why wait until school?" The blue-eyed boy 'Sirius' asked taking out his wand, "Let's teach the greasy little git a lesson he won't forget."

Severus gripped his own wand, his palm was sweaty and it kept slipping, "I bet you don't even know the most basic hex, you ignoramus. I'd like to see you try."

The boy with the glasses had his own wand out and pointed, "We know scads more than a pathetic little ponce like you. Bet you haven't even got any friends to practice with."

This sort of show went on for a few more minutes without a single spell being thrown. Severus felt sick to his stomach. What wasn't there some adult somewhere intervening?

Suddenly another boy's voice piped up from fairly close by, "If all you're going to do is stand here and shout things at each other, can I get by?"

"We're having a duel!" Sirius announced defiantly.

"This is officially the worst duel I've ever seen then. You know, they usually use spells and things, don't you? This is just argument with sticks."

The dry wit and easy jocularity in the voice made Severus take his locked gaze off his opponents. And all the breath left his lungs.

The new boy also had black hair; it was shorter and spiky and bit of a mess. It suited him, utterly however. He had very large, very, very green eyes. His features were fine and bordered on pretty. They had an otherworldly, almost fey cast to them. A faerie prince, Severus decided, a beautiful creature lost in this ugly realm.

The boy was dressed in muggle garments and was small and delicately built, more so even than Severus himself. But there was something in his body language, in his very bearing that suggested he was anything but fragile.

Meanwhile, the other two boys were so astonished by this new apparition; they dropped their wands and turned to him instead.

"And who are you?" The boy with the glasses asked.

The new boy studied him for a moment before replying, "Harry. Harry Pierce. I'll be starting at Hogwarts with you three I imagine."

The two would-be assailants made a great show of looking him up and down, "I'm James Potter and this is Sirius Black."

The new boy turned to Severus expectantly, he managed to shake himself out of his daze long enough to reply, "Severus Snape."

This caused gales of laughter in Potter and Black, "SEVERUS! Oh, that's just perfect!"

"Doesn't he just look like a Snape?"

Severus felt his cheeks flush. It was suddenly so much worse to be taunted in front of this Harry Pierce. He darted a cautious look over to see if the other boy thought his name was funny as well.

Instead on laughing, the green eyes had narrowed and the full mouth thinned slightly, "I don't think it's at all nice to mock someone else's name."

"Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" Black snorted.

A smirk graced the beautiful ruby red lips.

XXXXX

"I think it's an improvement." Harry remarked as they licked their ice creams.

_I'm a naughty boy and ought to be punished_ was emblazoned in scarlet across Potter and Black's clothing. It flashed in different patterns and also glowed in the dark. The two victims had even tried to remove their clothing to get rid of the humiliating message only to find it on their skin as well.

Severus licked his own cone. He felt a bit embarrassed that he'd needed to be treated, but it was nice to have something any other boy could have for once.

And he'd do just about anything to spend just five more minutes with Harry Pierce.

"I hope you know, this means war!" Potter had declared, red faced and shaking with barely suppressed rage.

"Oh, I look forward to it. See you on the train!" Harry called out cheerfully, looking not the slightest bit worried.

"That should make the next few years a bit interesting, anyway." Harry said to Severus almost conspiratorially, as if they were actually friends sharing a private joke.

Severus' heart pounded and his mind screamed, 'say something clever!'

"Um, yes. Aren't you worried though?" That's the best you can do? You really are a ponce, his mind muttered.

"Worried about what? Them? Not likely. Besides, we should stick together. I bet we'd make a deadly team. They'd be no match for us."

Severus almost choked on a bit of cone, "But… you don't even know if we'll be in the same house!" Why did you say that? Why? He just offered his friendship and what do you say? But? But nothing!

Harry winked at him and Severus' insides did ballet, "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. I have a feeling we belong together."

XXXXX


End file.
